


Always My Favorite Ex

by Eclectician



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Thor (Movies), Winter Soldier (Comics)
Genre: Awesome Darcy Lewis, Awesome Jane Foster, Brutal Honesty, Bucky has issues, But Also a Troll, Clint Barton Is a Good Bro, Darcy has issues, F/M, Female Friendship, Fluff, Fluff and Crack, Guilt Muffins, If You Squint - Freeform, Jane Foster & Darcy Lewis Friendship, New Relationship, Online Dating, Past Relationship(s), Sort of a 5 +1? Maybe, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, Strangers to Lovers, This surprises no one, ambiguous timeline, canon adjacent, coffeeshop, mental health
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-16
Updated: 2020-01-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:13:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22283908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eclectician/pseuds/Eclectician
Summary: "...did I ever tell you about the best breakup I ever had? God I love that guy. Well. I don't LOVE love him, obviously, because that would suck if I had LOVED loved him and we broke up. But he was like...the Mozart of breaking up. Like, angels wept, he was so good. You? You suck at this."TL:DR Darcy Lewis has Opinions about how to handle breakups.
Relationships: Darcy Lewis & Thor, James "Bucky" Barnes/Darcy Lewis, Jane Foster & Darcy Lewis, Jane Foster/Thor
Comments: 52
Kudos: 316





	1. Thor & Jane

**Author's Note:**

> First time writing for this fandom. First fic ever, in fact. I know roughly where I want this to go, but have no idea how long it will take to get there, or how scenic the route will be. The reason I tagged this as canon-adjacent is that while this is definitely not an AU (and I will be trying to keep the characterizations as canon-plausible as possible), it's entirely likely that my plot will stomp merrily over all kinds of conflicting timelines. Go easy on me folks - it's my first time.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor decides Jane is done with him. He will do the right thing, and acknowledge the ending of their relationship. It will be quick. He will not burden her with explanations, or tedious discussions of his feelings. 
> 
> Darcy decides that is some hot bullshit.
> 
> She has standards, when it comes to break-ups.

  
Thor was not having a good day.  
He knew that he owed it to Jane to acknowledge the end of their relationship in person. He was prepared for anything. Tears. Anger. Furious silence. Perhaps a good slap on the face. It was overdue, he glumly acknowledged to himself. He was even prepared for the righteous anger of their mutual colleagues. He was prepared for every eventuality, or so he thought.

"Jane," he said, swallowing nervously, "I know that you cannot continue as we have been. It grieves me that our time together has ended, but..."

"Our time... has ended? Past tense?” Brown eyes sparked with sudden flares of gold. “You're just....what? Announcing it? Unilateral decree by the King of Asgard, and whoops sorry Jane didn't I mention this incredibly important conversation that you never got to be part of? WHAT THE FUCK, ODINSON?!"

Before Thor could gather his thoughts to respond (The Aether was gone. Completely. Wasn’t it? Surely Jane could not *actually* set him on fire with her gaze alone?) they were interrupted by Darcy stepping physically between the pair, a frighteningly sunny smile on her face.  
  
"Ooookay! Hey Space Muscles, didn’t know you were back! ‘S nice to see most parts of you. But seriously your timing is like...the worst. Janey, put that down." Darcy smoothly removed something small, sharp, and expensive-looking from Jane's hand and slid it into a desk drawer.

"So Thor and I are gonna go get you some more coffee," the handle of Jane's favorite coffee mug suddenly appeared in Thor's hand, Darcy's fingers folding his thumb around it securely, "while you decide if you want to listen to anything else he says, like...ever."

Smile still firmly fixed in place, she reached up to grab Thor by the ear, twisted, and began a brisk walk towards the elevator. Thor followed in sheer shock, uncertain exactly what was happening. He tried to think of what he knew about the ending of courtships on Midgard - did seconds go into battle on behalf of the wronged, as in duels of honor? Was that what was happening? He tried to shake his head to clear it, and was stopped by the surprisingly strong grip Darcy still had on his left ear. 

As the elevator doors slid shut, he saw Jane watching. Fury was still etched in the lines of her delicate frame, but her eyes were now filled with calm satisfaction. The grip on his ear released as the elevator began to move. The abrupt cessation of pain allowed Thor to turn his head to look down at Darcy. Her smile, as wide as ever, suddenly seemed to have a few too many teeth.

"...did I ever tell you about the best breakup I ever had? God I love that guy. Well. I don't LOVE love him, obviously, because that would suck if I had LOVED loved him and we broke up. But he was like...the Mozart of breaking up. Like, angels wept, he was so good. You? You suck at this."

———————————————————————  
Thirty minutes later, the elevator doors opened to reveal a very humbled God of Thunder, with a bright pink notecard in one hand, and a steaming mug of coffee in the other. Jane looked up from her seat, and said nothing. 

He gingerly placed the mug on Jane’s desk, took two steps back, and cleared his throat. 

Jane unfolded her arms, picked up the mug, and sniffed carefully at the coffee. 100% Kona. An acceptable tribute. One delicate brow raised. “I’m listening.”

Hel, had it always been this warm in here? Thor glanced down at the notecard, cleared his throat once more and began:

“Jane, I am a dumbass, and I hope you are willing to hear my apology…”


	2. Four Years Previously (A Rapid Education in 21st Century Relationship Dynamics)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky Barnes may have known a few things about what women in the 1930's and 40's wanted, but James? James is learning a whole new world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forgive the non-linear nature of this section, I know where this fic is going, but I am still trying to figure out how to get it there. There may be some chapter merges and re-arrangement as I learn more about writing. Thank you for your patience!
> 
> PS I'm changing the rating of this fic to T, as apparently both of my leads have pretty filthy mouths and only just now bothered to tell me about it. Let me know if you think an M rating is indicated instead?

By the time James had been working as club security for 6 months, he knew 3 things of which both Bucky Barnes and the Winter Soldier had been blissfully unaware.

A: Drunk women in club bathrooms were the purest group of humans he had ever encountered, and he would walk face-first into hell to protect them. Ladies’ man Bucky had never much cared to listen to hens clucking at the dance halls. The Winter Soldier only listened to group interactions if it helped him identify a way to isolate a target. James, however, paid attention. The security post beside the downstairs main-stage women’s bathroom provided an insight into the modern female psyche he had never known.Between the angle of the large mirrored counters and his own enhanced hearing, he garnered an extended education in both feminist theory and practical makeup application. Sometimes he wished he could thank the girls who had introduced him to Elf Studio Cream eyeliner. Damn that shit stayed tight. Cheap, too.

_Unfortunately_

B: Men, straight men especially, were basically shit. James wasn’t sure what was worse, the frank discussions he overheard about the damage inflicted by careless or arrogant men, or the men themselves who tried to breeze past James’ station to go after a girl who had evaded them because “Hey man, it’s a club, like…no one cares.” They always seemed surprised that James cared.

_And last but not even slightly least for someone who listens to club music all night_

C: Disturbed needed to go ahead and release a fucking cover album already, then get back to their own damn work. Christ.


	3. First Impressions (still 4 years ago)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which our heroine swipes right, and our hero swipes left, repeatedly. Until he doesn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Darcy is comfortable with 21st Century mating rituals of all kinds. Apps, texts, video chat, whatever lets her connect. Bucky, at this time going by James and working as a bouncer, is comfortable with pretty much nothing, and it is starting to show. 
> 
> This doesn't show them actually connecting, just...the lead up to it.

_____________________________________________________________________________

“Hello,” her eyes widened.

The picture was slightly grainy, and unmistakably taken in club lighting. Swirls of dance-floor fog coiled behind the dark silhouette of head and shoulders. Three beams of bright white light cut diagonally across what looked to be a nicely sculpted face; one caught the gleam of blue-black hair pushed back from his forehead, one caught the beginnings of a smirk on full, plush lips, and one slashed across eyes that read blue even in the muted palette of the photo. He wasn’t looking straight at the camera; someone had clearly caught him just as he saw something which got his attention.

Damn. She’d like to get some of that attention.

_Swipe right._

_______________________________________________________

“You’re gonna get so many matches honey, don’t you even worry about a thing.” Noah finished tapping to set up James’ profile and handed his phone back, grinning manically.

James sighed. “Ain’t worried.”

“Yes you are, you are like...oh my God! Whatever. Have you SEEN YOU?! Just remember. One week. You have to give it an honest try for one week, and my lips are sealed forever.” The dark-eyed young man mimed zipping his lips shut and tossing away a key.

“Why the fuck did I agree to this?” James groaned, a headache beginning to form behind his eyes. “It ain’t like they’d believe you.”

Noah stepped back, whether in self-preservation or to get a better look at his victim, James couldn’t tell.

“Umm…I’m going to go with yes. Yes they absolutely WILL believe me.”

Apparently it was the latter.

“And I’m doing it for your own good. You’re getting so grouchy lately that even your little drunklings..”

“Don’t call ‘em that.”

“Fine, your gaggle of drunk adoring women who in no way gather around you like ducklings, ARE NOTICING. And they’re DRUNK. They shouldn’t be noticing anything about their supposedly-ace, really favorite security guards’ Inner Turmoil. They should be noticing their eyeliner and their lipstick. And maybe your ass, if you didn’t hide it in such awful pants. But YOU are the one who decided to let them assume that you’re ace leaning gay, and YOU are the one who starts sweating like Doc Holliday when that blonde girl dances, and YOU are the one who will have only yourself to blame when the rest of the club figures out what this pretty boy already knows.”

Noah finished his speech with a prim nod, glared briefly in the direction of James’ admittedly oversized cargo pants, and began to open the door to leave. James started to relax. Too soon, damnit.As he stepped through the door, Noah called over his shoulder with appalling clarity for the whole street to hear, “James Buchanan, YOU NEED TO GET LAID.”

James got up slowly, to give Noah a head start in case he failed his save vs strangle the nosy bastard. He closed the door with over-controlled gentleness, then looked down at the rectangle of glass and plastic in his hand. Already open, the app beamed up at him, a curvy redhead’s home attempt at boudior photography first in the queue. Left, he remembered. Left for no, right for…yes? Maybe? Right for Mrs. Right Now, he’d heard a boy at the club say, and he felt faintly nauseated at the idea of sharing anything, even a simple mnemonic, with an asshole like that.

He swiped firmly left.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darcy has a fresh audience to regale with the story of her favorite breakup. Two of them have never heard it before, two of them had heard it too many times, and one of them has been waiting for four years to hear it from her perspective.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is definitely the longest chapter to date, and I am still not happy with the overall flow of the story, so there may be some tweaking. Also trying to decide whether to leave the story here, or continue it. Suggestions welcome!

__________________________________________________________________________

**_A Painfully Cute Coffee Shop, 4 years ago_ **

_Darcy peered into her bag to be sure she had everything she needed. The superficially distressed leather was made to look like an old-time mail bag, shabby enough to not garner attention on the subway, but quirky enough to look intentional when accompanying most of Darcy’s wardrobe. Its fashion versatility was a secondary consideration to it’s real function however. No, what she had was a straight up Bag of Holding. Today, for example, it contained everything a girl could need for a first date which could plausibly end in fantastic sex (favorite option), mediocre sex (disappointingly, the most probable outcome in her experience), no sex but possibly a new friend, or Other Unspecified But Less Fun Outcomes. For the former, she had packed condoms, lube, wipes, a change of clothes, laptop and charger cables, and a sealed envelope containing her most recent test results. For the latter, her taser, her freshly-charged GPS locator tag, a first-aid kit, two knives, a set of lock picks, and her favorite gift ever from Natasha, a potent neurotoxic lipstick and sealer set.Safe sex, kids._

_Satisfied that she had planned for pretty much every likely scenario, Darcy settled into her seat with a sigh. She loved this coffeeshop - it was one of her favorite places to screen potential dates, plus the main-shift barista had been in a few of her undergrad classes and always remembered Darcy's name. Pity Darcy couldn't really return that favor. Flora? Daisy? Something flowery. Anyway, Botany Girl knew her order, sometimes slipped her an extra muffin even. If it weren’t so inconvenient to her job, she was pretty sure she’d just live here. Damn these chairs were comfortable. Maybe a brief catnap wouldn’t be a bad idea. She was 30 minutes early to meet JB-of-the-killer-cheekbones, and last night had been a hard push to get some of Jane’s data re-plotted ahead of a submission deadline. With a jaw-cracking yawn, she wriggled deeper into her armchair and let her eyelids drift shut, hardly registering the sound of the shop’s antique-reproduction phone jangling insistently._

_______________________________________________________________________

**Current Day, Avengers Facility**

“Wait, wait,” Helen interrupted. “So you were just meeting him for the first time? How does this qualify him for a Best Break-Up story? You have to be actually together, for there to be a breakup.”

“Wait for it,” Clint said. A piece of popcorn landed neatly in his mouth as he spoke, earning a snort from his wife. “Trust me, this qualifies.”

“So like I was saying, there I was when suddenly Flora is sputtering like an outboard motor…”

_____________________________________________________________________________

_“D…..d…Darcy? Umm, I can’t tell you that sir,” the barista stalls, waving frantically to try to get Darcy’s attention.“No, I understand, but she’s…I mean you have to understand that IF there was a customer here by that name….argh!”_

______________________________________________________________________________

“So Buttercup is on the phone with some guy, and she straight up nails me in the forehead with a wadded up napkin,” Darcy continues, rubbing her hands together gleefully.

_______________________________________________________________________________

_“Sir? SIR! Please. Hold.” The barista, whose name tag reads Primrose, inhales strongly through her nose, claps her hand over the phone’s old-fashionedmouth-piece, and hisses “DARCY!! WAKE. UP! Some guy calling himself JB wants to know if you’re here. Do you even know a JB? Do I need to call the police?”_

________________________________________________________________________________

“So obviously I am like, wildly confused at this point because first I’m halfway to la-la land…”

Clint leaned over to Laura to address Helen, as _sotto_ as his _voce_ ever got “…so basically business as usual.”

Laura shoved him back and deposited a handful of popcorn neatly in his mouth all in one smooth, clearly practiced, operation. “Ignore Clint, Darcy. So, you’re halfway asleep….”

“Right, so I’m halfway asleep, and second, who calls a coffee shop’s landline? Like who knew they even HAVE landlines? So Lily has this guy on hold, and I’m still not at like, 100%, maybe 65 and change, and suddenly it clicks! Who knew I was supposed to be here? TA DAAA!”

Darcy bent over, reached into her messenger bag, and produced a bottle of bourbon, shaking it proudly at her audience. As she presented the bottle like Vanna White, Helen whispered to Laura, “Why does she have a bottle of Jim Beam in her purse?? I thought we were talking about a guy. Wait is this story a metaphor for alcoholism? Is that why I’m here? Oh my God is this an intervention?! I am so fucking lost.”

“What?! Oh my God as if.Jim Beam! JB! It’s like….a play on his…you know what never mind, if I have to explain it, it isn’t funny. Besides being a clever plot device that went NOWHERE, it’s this month’s contribution to poker night. ANYWAY,” Darcy set the bottle on the coffee table and rolled her eyes, “So I tell Iris to tell JB that yeah, I’m here, because I think maybe he’s lost, or like running late, and I maybe missed his call. And she’s all ‘uh huh, okay well I’ll tell her,’ and writes something down and hangs up,then she tells me to check my messages. So I unlock my phone and there’s just like one message, and it says ‘check your email please doll.’ And this is like, way not his usual style so I am immediately suspicious.”

Helen nodded, absorbed once more. Abnormal texting patterns. Guys being cryptic. She’s on her way to being caught up, she decides. 

“What was his usual style?”

“Well we climbed the classic hierarchy of app to text to voice to video call like - super quick, but text was totally our love language. He was super good at it, but weirdly formal? Like, he never used emojis or even abbreviations, and it took me literally months to get him to even acknowledge that gifs were a legitimate form of communication. “

“You were texting this guy for…months? And you’d never met?”

“And phone calls and video calls for the sexytimes, yup! Only a few video calls though, he was super shy about letting me see all of his face or body. Like sometimes I wondered if he was hiding something? But yeah, we initially tried to get together like a week after we matched, but then Jane got pulled for that lecture circuit, remember?”

Helen nodded as though *of course* she kept track of the movements of every prominent scientist in fields not even slightly related to her own.And remembered them for years. Would anyone notice if she snuck a sip from that bottle?

Darcy continued blithely, “and obviously I had to go with her, because a Jane left to her own devices is a Jane who falls through wormholes. And DOESN’T EAT.”

From down the hall a tiny voice retorted “RUDE!!!”

“BUT TRUE!”

Clint and Laura both nodded in confirmation to Helen. Apparently Dr. Foster not only ripped merrily through the space-time continuum, wormholes were so commonplace for her line of work that her poor dietary habits were a more frequent topic of conversation than oh, say..rebuilding the entire field of theoretical physics. Cool. Fine. This was fine. 

“Anyway that put the kibosh on meeting up irl for a while and we just…got into the habit, I guess? It was good though, and I was super excited about potential face-smooshing time instead of FaceTime, and then BOOM, here’s this super ominous like - 5 word text from the guy who legit texted me the entire dictionary definition of ‘turgid’ one day.”

Helen looked faintly nauseated. Laura patted her leg soothingly and discreetly scooted the bottle of Jim Beam closer to Helen. 

“So obviously this is it, the break up text, or email, or whatever, right? I mean, if I were a betting girl,”

“She is.” Clint announced to his couchmates with no pretense at discretion. “Cheats like crazy, too.”

“Excuse you, Hawkass, I wasn’t even wearing my good bra. Not my fault you’re easily distracted. Sorry Laura, but you know it’s true. Clint’s eyes and cleavage are like Thor and pancakes. He has zero save, and less chill.” Laura considered this briefly, and shrugged. It was a fair point.

“So like I was saying before Clint tried to slander my good name like the mendacious maggot that he is, this is clearly prologue to ‘It’s not you, it’s me.’ Right? I mean everyone knows where notes like that are going. And, I was right. It 100% was a breakup text.”

“And this….was your best breakup? Jesus Darcy, who else have you dated?”

“Oh no, this was the first of five ways he broke up with me.”

“WHAT?!?!”

Darcy leaned back and started ticking them off on her fingers.

“Technically first was the text, which led to the email, which had a screenshot of the app, but I usually I count the app as first.”

She tapped a few moments on her phone, then handed it to Laura, who leaned over to show it to Helen. Clint, who had apparently seen it before, just grinned. “’s still the ballsiest thing I’ve seen a guy do. Stupidest. But ballsy.”

There on the phone was a screenshot of a dating app profile. The picture had been blacked out, but the bio read: _“This user is leaving online dating due to the sudden realization that he is a self-absorbed prick who is even now in the process of standing up a really nice woman whom he really likes, because he can’t get his shit together enough to handle the idea of a real life relationship. No further messages to this profile will be read or acknowledged, and it will be deleted after the woman in question has a chance to see my public acknowledgement that I am absolutely the problem in this situation.”_

Silence reigned for several moments.

“Wow. So,” Helen had to take a moment to blink before continuing, “That was way number 1?”

“Yeah, I think that counts as first, since it’s where we first met. Second was a wall of text,” and she pulled her phone back, scrolled to another screenshot, and handed it back to Laura. This one read:

_Darcy, I’m so sorry doll, but I won’t be meeting you at the coffee shop today. I respect you enough to not bullshit you, or leave you dangling, so you should know that yes this is a breakup text, which is a cowardly and shitty thing to do, and I know it. I am sending a second email, with a much more detailed explanation. If you want to read it, the subject line will be “Reasons Why,” but it isn’t just that, it’s also a thank you for the good things you’ve brought into my life.I’m leaving tomorrow, to go someplace where I hope there are people who can help me pull my head out of my ass, so I won’t be checking email, or this number, for replies. I feel like a clean break may be the last and only thing I can offer you at this point._

There was another silence, this one broken by a quiet sigh. From Clint, of all people. “Sorry, “ he said quietly. “That one always gets me. I tried that clean break shit once you know. God that sucked.”

Laura smiled at him softly, remembered sadness in her eyes. “Yeah. It did. Good thing it didn’t stick.”

Helen asked hesitantly “So ummm….there was an email, too? Is that 3? Or was the fact that he called the coffee shop #3?”

Tension broken, Darcy grinned. “Oh no, the call to the coffee shop turns out to be connected to…well actually it could kinda count double. It ended up having the longest lasting impact, for sure. But yeah, there was an email besides just the screenshot of the app. It was…God it was like a novel. I deleted it the minute I saw it, didn’t actually pull it up out of the trash and read it for like…a week afterwards? Something like that. Anyway, it was more of the same. Super extended ‘it’s not you it’s me,’ but like…sincere. Kind. I probably would never have read it if I hadn’t already screamed at him.”

“So I thought he was ghosting, how did you get hold of him?”

“Oh I didn’t. He texted AGAIN a few minutes later to tell me that he was going to call, because he figured I deserved the right to hear it from him instead of just read it. And then that turned into a video call because hello we’d done that too, and by the time it was all over he’d communicated with me in every medium we’d ever shared, which was so intensely weird and ritualistic but it…it really helped, you know? Like there was never the slightest doubt that this was Closure, and that it had, REALLY had, both jack and shit to do with anything I could ever beat myself up over. This was his shit, getting in the way of him being happy and yeah it sucked that his shit also got in the way of US being happy but…he owned it. It honestly didn’t leave me a lot to feel bad about.”

Helen considered that for a moment.

“Plus, won’t lie, the muffins totally helped.”

Helen blinked at this apparent non-sequitur. “The….muffins?”

Clint chuckled and replied “Yeah apparently when Jimmy boy called the shop, he left his credit card on file. Darcy didn’t pay for drinks or muffins there for…what was it? 6 months?”

“About that, yeah. I honestly don’t know if they’re STILL being paid for, I never get down that way anymore but he told Lilac to take care of my bill like, indefinitely, because he felt so shitty for standing me up and then….I mean maybe some girls have the willpower to refuse guilt-muffins but those girls are Not Me. My forgiveness can 100% be bought with self-abnegation and baked goods. Plus like, I freaking LOVED their lemon-poppyseed, and the lavender-cherry scones are to die for, and honestly that alone would have made him my favorite ex.”

“Yeah,” Laura hummed thoughtfully. “That’s fair. As breakups go, that does set the bar pretty high.”

Helen nodded thoughtfully. “And you never heard from him again? This JB? ”

“Nope. And now he lives forever enshrined in my memory as the guy who stood the fuck up and owned his shit and handled a breakup like a goddamn gentleman unlike some men AND I KNOW YOU’RE LISTENING, THOR.”

From down the hall came the sound of a long suffering sigh, and a Jane Foster-sized snort. Honestly that had been some of Darcy’s best work, getting Thor realize the error of his ways. Say what you would about his other relationship skills, the man did grovel well. And maybe they’d end up back together and maybe they wouldn’t, but either way Thor was done leaving Jane in the dark about how he was feeling and why.

“Wrap it up, Short Stack,” Tony warned, leaning against the doorway as though he’d been there for the whole conversation. Who knew, Helen thought dazedly. Perhaps he had been. “I’ve got a new team member to introduce to you and Weird Science down there…”

“I HEARD THAT”

“Of course you did. Anyway, fresh off his Wakanda Forever Brain Un-Fucking Tour, I present the shortest surviving Howlie, Bucky Barnes.”

A shadow detached itself from the wall behind Tony, and resolved into the form of one James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes. Helen stared unabashedly as the man she would have sworn was 70 years in the grave stepped forward, looking surprisingly spry for a...what, a nonagenarian now? Huh. Laura pressed the newly opened bottle into her hand after taking a generous swig herself. Helen tipped the bottle in Bucky’s direction in a nonsensical toast, aware that Darcy had gone uncharacteristically still beside her. Bucky quirked his lips in acknowledgment of the salute, and nodded a greeting to the room in general, but his eyes were locked straight onto Darcy.

“Hey doll. So I’m your favorite ex, huh?”

Darcy blinked.

Then a wide smile spread across her face.

“Always.”


End file.
